


Murder Is Such An Ugly Word

by brokenhighways



Category: Gotham (TV), Gotham - Fandom
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-25 11:14:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3808288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenhighways/pseuds/brokenhighways
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They call him The Ogre and treat him like he's a monster, and that's not new. His face is new but it hasn't changed anything. That icy, bitter taste of revenge still lingers on his tongue and swirls in his chest. A lingering shadow of his mother stares down at him but it is never the real thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Murder Is Such An Ugly Word

**Author's Note:**

> Summary is kind of not a summary but this is basically an Inner POV one-shot for The Ogre on Fox's version of Gotham. I was inspired by Milo Ventimiglia's face and insomnia. ;) Unbetad so apologies for any mistake etc.

 

Murder is such an ugly word. 

  
Serial killer? 

  
God, that's even worse. 

  
The Ogre?

  
That's nothing that he hasn't heard before. 

All of these names, titles, attributes and rent-a-quote sound bites  are just proof of how cruel this world is. All he's trying to is find his perfect half. His soulmate. Someone who'll actually love him for who he is without laughing in his face, with their spittle rolling down his cheek as the humiliation and upset burns through him. Someone who won't leave - unless it is on his terms. 

  
Since when did wanting companionship make someone a bad guy?

  
They call him The Ogre and treat him like he's a monster, and that's not new. His face is new but it hasn't changed anything. That icy, bitter taste of revenge still lingers on his tongue and swirls in his chest. A lingering shadow of his mother stares down at him but it is never the real thing.  

  
When he was a boy and people saw his face - his real face - they would stare. 

  
They would point. 

  
They would laugh. 

  
In some cases, there were tears, though most of those were his. Wasted tears on the shamefulness that moonlighted as humanity. The thing about wanting people to love you is that, it always goes pear-shaped in the end. 

  
He finds these women but...they're not his equal. They're beautiful and they know it. They know how to use it too, lashes fluttering, coy smiles and teasing touches until things serious. Usually, he doesn't have to utter an untoward word, it just happens. He grabs them the wrong way, or becomes too intense and suddenly it is like they can see. See his real face. 

They try to pull back, warmth fading into cold as he  realises  that another one is about to bite the dust. The smiles evaporate and in their place is fear. Fear from what he wonders? He looks like one of them now. He's normal. He's just like them. 

  
They just never seem to see it that way.  

  
After he loses patience with victim number two, he takes the time to build his special room. It goes through two or three reincarnations, depending on how often he moves but the general theme stays the same. Call it sadomasochism, whatever. That's just another word to contend with. It's not just about his pleasure or their pain, it's about giving them something to fear. Something real to fear because underneath the charm and ooze, the expensive suits and cologne, and the paid for model smile, he's just a guy. A regular, soulful guy who wants to be loved just like everyone else. 

  
He's just like them. 

  
He's just Jason, but nobody sees that. It's all smoke and mirrors and how much wealth one has, how attractive one is, and no one cares about inner beauty anymore. Everything is so shiny and artificial and it makes his blood boil because he's no different. He's just as fake as they all are and for what? No one will ever love him. Not fully. Not the way that he deserves to be loved. 

  
So maybe he's not just Jason. He's The Ogre.

  
Maybe he's the animal they say he is. 

All Jason knows is that while other people's pain is within his control, he won't stop until it's no longer enough. Not until he's numb, heart blackened by the stain of loneliness. He's going to slash, stab, slice, cut and hurt until all of the pain bleeds out of him.

  
And he's going to enjoy every, sick, twisted, warped second of it. 


End file.
